Most tourists come here to live in a bubble. They leave the bubble of Antigua Guatemala, travel through real Guatemala to get here and continue the bubble life further. I'm doing it as well.
Average people can live like they're rich here and many have. As you journey around the lake you see the swish pads of foreigners and perhaps a small percentage of elite from Guatemala City. It's a chance to live well, and it happens all over. In Guatemala the lake is home to so many it's hard to estimate how many. I admire those people who are able to take risks and come here to build houses (no planning needed), but I am not brave enough. I see why they do it, some of the pads are luxurious, while many others are simple, nice homes with great views of the lake. Many will only stay for the winter. Escaping Northern climes fro the winter is common here and people have been doing it since the eighties.
Forty years ago, the lake was a collection of villages, home to locals, now many of them are sustained and probably prosper on tourist money. I'm in San Pedro at the moment, at the Mikaso Hotel, supposedly the swankiest in town at £30 per night. It's nice to have bricks and mortal and an en-suite bathroom around me again after three nights in a straw and wooden shack at La Iguana Perdido in Santa Cruz.
San Pedro is the party town of the many around the lake, although I believe this hotel is furthest away from the "action". The dusty breeze block lanes that wind back towards partyville and the dock, are ugly, uninviting affairs, lined with numerous eateries and shops orientated mostly to tourists. I ate in the second rated place on trip advisor for lunch. Back in the Uk , this would be a 2 out of 5 star place but here it's a 4.5. The people are really friendly.
I need a haircut, I'm tired of having it mope about on my head doing nothing so I sought out the only hairdressers/ barbers in town, named after the owner's five year old daughter, Nathalie. I found the shop closed, then noticed the opening hours. Cerrado (Closed) 12-2pm. People here must be doing alright if they can afford two hour lunch breaks, but then it's not that busy and it's a small place.
The coffee shop owners across the street got the Father-in-law to let me in and wait and then telephoned the hairdresser Belinda. She'll be down in ten. Twenty minutes later she arrives with husband and daughter and we begin shaving my head. Number four all over with a little two on the sides. That'll set me up for most of Central America,
Her English is good and we switch between languages, although my Spanish is still very basic. At one stage, a friend of hers comes in and Belinda stops the haircut to chat and make a call. I want this over with as soon as possible.
"Disculpe, Por Favour," I say, "Quiero a va." According to the Google Translate website that means, "Sorry for Favour. I want to go." But she got the message anyway. I thought I might be risking trouble but they were ok, when I added the second part. Good job! Thanks Belinda. And mission accomplished. Now to shower and find a place to wash my clothes. I hope they will a/ dry them properly, and 2/ Not loose any of the garments.
I took a photo of the clothes I was leaving there, feeling slightly guilty about doing this in front of them, but it can be useful later. I explained my memory was bad and need to remember what was there, as politely as possible. My only good trekking pair of trousers went missing in India just several weeks into the trip, when the hotel sent them out to wash. The manger/owner was angry when I asked about my missing trousers, telling me I hadn't given them any trousers, but I told him I wasn't leaving until they were returned. All this in the back streets of Paharganj, in quite a nice hotel for that area. Actually I was going to leave couple of days later no matter, but on the evening before the trousers that didn't exist miraculously returned and went on to have a number of wild adventures over the next year.
While back at the "classiest" hotel in town and getting dressed from a shower, a woman began knocking on my door, and talking Spanish. I said "Que?" several times and didn't understand her reply. I ignored her as I unpacked my backpack to look for clothes to put on. I sensed some kind of scam, or perhaps a robbery, (over re-acting perhaps), but who was this person in the hotel? Perhaps a maid. She wasn't going away though and knocked on the door repeatedly, somewhere between five and ten times.
Eventually, I got some clothes on and opened the door just to find out it's somebody selling a blanket or some such thing. This is the reason for all the knocking? And not even a staff member? It's a good job she doesn't understand English, there might be some pay back from a relative. It's one thing people trying to sell their goods in the street but this was knocking on my door IN THE HOTEL.
Much of this Central American journey goes through countries where many people work hard for very little pay. It doesn't feel comfortable to witness the poverty on display. Those working around tourists are doing relatively well, but not everyone is.
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